Atheism: probably not for sad people
Amedeo Modigliani (1884-1920), Portrait of a Polish Woman, 1919. The Polish woman is beautiful. The Polish woman is sad. Is the Polish woman an atheist? Image source: arthistory.about.com
I’m sick and tired of thinking about atheism, so this is my last post on that topic for a while. I promise. I just need to say this. I need to bring the atheism question out of the ivory tower and onto the ground where we all live.
There are many sad and lonely people in the world. There are those who struggle with depression, bipolar disorder, schizophrenia, and just plain relentless sadness. There are those who lacerate their own bodies so that they can feel something, anything. There are those who are addicted to heroin, sex, alcohol, cocaine; for these broken people the idea of quitting by sheer dint of will is a bad joke. There are those who are shunned: the homeless, the left-over, the forgotten, the orphans. There are women and children found dead under highway overpasses. There are homosexuals who would rather kill themselves than admit to the world who they are. There are children enslaved in the worldwide sex market. There are abused toddlers, teens who are ignored or despised by their parents, women who are routinely brutalized by their husbands, adults who hate themselves. There are people, some very young, who have come to the end of their road and cannot imagine life anymore, and who kill themselves. We may like to think that these people are over there, in hospitals and shelters and safe houses. But this is not so. These people are common. We pass them on the street every day. They serve our meals, carry our mail, clean our teeth, design our buildings, work in the next office, live next door.
What does atheism have to say to these people? What does atheism have to offer them?
It has been suggested often that religious faith is nothing but a security blanket, that it is a warm bubbly credulity bath, that it is a mere opiate. While this is a simplistic, unfair, and ultimately false idea, a part of it is true: Religious faith does have a way of comforting the afflicted (and of afflicting the comfortable, but that’s another post). The real and present belief that there is a God who loves you infinitely, a God who knows you and your sufferings and even experiences those sufferings alongside you, is a very powerful source of hope. It may sound silly to those who have no faith, but I’m here to say, faith works.
After all, why do the first three steps of every 12-step program insist that the addict (1) make a full admission of personal powerlessness, (2) come to believe that a higher power can save them, and (3) make a decision to hand one’s life over to that power? This stuff actually works. Without faith in someone or something higher, these people die.
It may be said that this provides nothing in the way of evidence for God. I disagree. Good scientific theories stick around because they work. In this arena of addiction, where need is greatest and people at are their most desperate, the theory There is a personal God works. So on this purely pragmatic level, the God concept produces fruit: Tens of thousands of recovered addicts. Probably hundreds of thousands.
And now: What does atheism have to say to these addicts? Try harder? Just get over your God obsession and you’ll free yourself of the guilt and shame that drive your addiction? Just stop? You’re in control? (BTW, this last one is every addict’s worst nightmare.)
Or to the ones who are depressed: It’s a beautiful world? Buck up, little engine? Exercise? Think positive thoughts? Feed your ego? Attend a party?
Or to the ones who are abused, who live short and brutal lives of sexual slavery? What does atheism say? Enjoy your life? Too bad for you? I’m sorry?
Or to the ones who find themselves jumping off bridges because they’re ashamed of their sexuality? Man up? You’re a good guy? We accept you? We’ll be nice to you?
What a horrible joke.
I do not believe, as many Christians do, that there is no ethics apart from God, although it’s not always easy for me to see. I do believe, however, that there is no love apart from God. There just isn’t. By love, I don’t mean the manufacture of good feelings; I mean the making of a free choice to empty oneself for the sake of the beloved. By love, I don’t mean the doing of nice things for homeless people, but the being with homeless people, knowing them, seeing them as being the exact same as you, and thereby becoming a homeless person. By love, I don’t mean writing books or blog posts about God’s love or preaching about God’s love; I mean having the courage to become absolutely empty and transparent before God.
I am not suggesting that atheists do not or cannot do these things, but I am suggesting that when they do, it is made possible by the love of God. One doesn’t have to call it the love of God for it to be the love of God.
Without God, what is a human being? Nothing.
Without God, what is human effort? Nothing.
Without God, what is human love? Nothing.
Without God, what can one hope to offer this sad, abused, lonely, depressed, addicted, brutalized, suicidal world?
I realize that I’m making a caricature of atheism in this post. It’s for the sake of polemic. But I really want to know the answer to my last question. Any atheists out there with a response? Please leave a comment.
There are 16 Comments to "Atheism: probably not for sad people"
Without God, what can one hope to offer this sad, abused, lonely, depressed, addicted, brutalized, suicidal world?
From my point of view, always and only what we have ever had to offer: ourselves. We are the only ones who can deliberately and consciously provide kindness and healing and companionship and comfort. You sort of acknowledge this above when you admit that atheists do these things, but you puzzle me greatly by seeming to say that if God isn’t behind it all, then it doesn’t count.
Also, thank you for at least acknowledging that your post is a polemic and its portrayal of atheism is a caricature. I think you realize we can all recognize and treasure empathy and compassion and love (and the actions they impel us to) regardless of whether we think they come from a divinity or not.
Thanks for the comment, Jack. You (and perhaps others) need to know that, behind the polemic, I really am serious about one thing, and I can never explain it adequately because it is so amazingly far from being self-evident: There is a presence in this world alongside which human beings are nothing. I mean this exactly as I say it. It is not hyperbole, metaphor, or polemic. And I really do mean it when I say that we have nothing without that presence. That presence, of course, I call God. Others call it by other names. Einstein called it “Old One.” Others call it the Tao. Others call it Brahman. But without it we are nothing, an absolute nothing. So, in this view, when we offer “ourselves,” we offer precisely nothing. I mean, we’re physical beings, but what does that mean? Or, from another point of view, what’s behind the physical? Anything? If not, we’re nothing. A certain collection of parts, assembled in a certain pattern for a certain amount of time. Nothing. We’re sand mandalas. This, I must admit, is a very attractive view but in the end I can’t quite buy it. Because of that presence.
It sounds crazy as hell, I guess.
Part — maybe most — of the problem is language. I wish I could talk seriously about religious issues without using religious language. Maybe I need to work on this, maybe this can be a fruitful way to go with all of this.
Again, thank you for your note. Let’s keep the dialogue open.
Speaking as a “strong” agnostic, I guess the answer to your question is this: How about joy, social justice, companionship, psychotherapeutic treatment, recovery programs, social justice (again), and treatment? I’ve seen people offer all these things, to me and to others, in the absence of God, even if they believe in God. I’m not saying that God, or at least the cultural/psychological construct one calls “God”, isn’t out there and working in the world, but I am saying that one can do good work without the particular version of the construct called by many of us “God,” and I have seen it happen.
My problems with atheism are twofold: the truth of God’s existence cannot be deduced by rational means, and belief in the existence of God cannot be shown to have caused–in any meaningful sense–all the bad things atheists say it does. So what I have done is, as they say in Alcoholics Anonymous, “resigned from the debating society” and moved on to more hands-on work in this marvelous world full of wonder and love, and full of despair and madness.
I remain open to the discussion and to the discovery process, which I think is the most meaningful aspect of my belief in whatever it is that I believe in when I think “God,” and what I value the most in religious discourse. That is why I am excited to have discovered your blog, and look forward to more fine posts. Thanks!
Thanks for the note, SDJim.
You write, I am saying that one can do good work without the particular version of the construct called by many of us “God,” and I have seen it happen. I understand you and I want to be behind you 100%. But first I must ask, What construct is this? Can you describe for me the God of the construct?
I am not saying that God is not a construct. Of course God is a construct, and by that I mean “God” is a construct. Any word (like “God”) or any construct that you can conceive of, however imaginative or precise or even vague, is very much not God. This is probably not a new idea for you, but I did want to make clear that whatever you thought when you read “God” in this post is wrong. Of course this is not because of any mistake of yours; it’s God’s fault (for being beyond concepts).
So when you said that you have seen these things happen without the construct called “God,” I agree. But if you were to say that you have seen these things happen without the reality that the word “God” stands for, I disagree.
This is not just wordplay; I hope you understand that. I am not trying to be pedantic here! I wish I could use a word other than “God,” because it carries so much baggage (as your comment makes clear). But I’m afraid I’m stuck with it.
I, like you, have resigned from the debate team (that’s a great metaphor). I have almost zero confidence in the power of reason to make deep changes in people.
Thanks for joining us. It’s great to have you on board!
Hey Paul,
There are a few points that I agree, and others that I don’t.
You started of by asking what could atheism offer to people who are suffering. Well here’s what – I have to admit that it doesn’t. Atheism, being defined as a lack of belief in God doesn’t offer anything comforting to their emotions. Telling them that there’s no higher being to protect them may only batter their emotions ever more.
On the other hand, I have read about many cases where people led better lives after being introduced to religion, be it Christianity, Buddhism, Islam etc. by giving them hope. So I agree with you on this.
However, it must be noted that this still doesn’t give any evidence for God. It’s like saying if placebos help in healing patients, then they actually have medicinal properties. Just because religion can give people comfort doesn’t mean that it’s true. I still insist that empirical evidence is needed to show that any concept is true.
Plus, I do not agree that there is no love without God (or as you said, Tao, Brahman etc.) I think that we are able to love, and give meaning to our lives through ourselves. I do not think it is necessary to give our lifes meanings through a third-party (aka religion).
Anyway, from your comments, the way that you describe God reminds me of a concept in Buddhism, but I simply can’t remember what it exactly is right now. Argh!
Hi Darren. Thanks for reading and commenting. Your placebo idea is interesting. I’ll give it some thought.
Yes, there may be some overlap (so far as I understand it, which may not be very far) between my insistence that God is absolutely beyond concepts and the Buddhist idea of emptiness. Let me know if this sounds right or wrong.
I have a question, simply out of curiosity: What school of Buddhism is practiced in Malaysia? Emptiness — I think — is largely a feature of the Mahayana school.
I’m guessing you know that I posted about you and your blog awhile back. If you missed it, it’s here.
Thanks again for reading. Great to hear from you.
To answer your question about Buddhism, there are more Mahayana followers in Malaysia, but that is only because there are much more Chinese than Indochinese (Thailand, Vietnam, Cambodia) here. In general, Mahayana Buddhism is practised by the Chinese and Japanese, while Theravade is practised by the Indochinese.
However, it must be noted that Mahayana Buddhism as practised by people here (and I would guess most Chinese) is heavliy influenced (or corrupted, depending on your point of view) by Taoism, Confucianism and Chinese folk superstition/religion. So it isn’t purely Buddhism, but rather a mix of religions.
Now about emptiness. I don’t think emptiness was what I was referring to. I think it’s more related to karma, or existence, or dukkha. Not very sure on this. However, emptiness is not a concept unique to Mahayana Buddhism, and if I remember correctly, is part of the original teachings of Siddharta Gautama.
Plus, emptiness is actually a wrong translation of the concept. Emptiness implies that there is existence, which means that it is still a dualist construct (not sure if this is the right word).
Let me give an vague analogy of what Śūnyatā (the word in Sanskrit) actually means. For someone to pass away, he/she must have lived in the past. For a place to be empty, there must also be a place that is full so that the concept can exist. So, if there is no life, then how can death exist? If there is no such thing as full, then how can there be empty?
Thus, the concept isn’t non-existence, as is implied by emptiness. For non-existence to occur, there must be existence. So Śūnyatā</strong. is neither existence nor non-existence. You may think of it as singularity (but then that implies that there is non-singularity, right? Argh!)
And if you had problems understanding it, don't worry. My brain just imploded describing the concept.
Well, it looks like you two (you and Darren) are going to get me to blog again, after a three-year hiatus. The topics you guys write about are my thing, too, although mine are a little more personal, I think.
Now I have to go find something to write about. Thanks!
To address your question, Paul: The “construct” called god is not the reality of god, if there is one; it is just the linguistic, cultural, historical, psychological, communicative construct we use to talk to one another and that which we internalize–or realize–within us. I frankly don’t know what it is, and I’m always looking.
When I say that things happen without the construct called God I mean that I know people who don’t believe in God who are really good people, and I’m sure you do too. I am not prepared to say that God, the one that is outside of human concepts, is driving/inspiring/responsible/present in these situations with these good-hearted godless people, but I could be wrong about that. That’s the agnostic part. And I know that for you, a scientist, “wordplay” is not reality–but for me, a Literature guy, wordplay is reality, the reality I study, the actual linguistic data I examine in my field of study. My field doesn’t study stuff, but stories, but it’s a study nevertheless. Quite a few of those stories are about God, and that’s what makes my reading so interesting for me.
Anyway, I look forward to more discussion, and more interesting thinking, and some good writing, too. And thanks for turning me on to Darren!
Hey Paul,
Sorry to be a latecomer to this discussion, but I must strongly disagree with your assertion that humankind is essentially valueless without the God construct. There are many of us Atheists who live fulfilling, happy lives without any need for the “God” concept. To quote Pierre-Simon marquis de Laplace, “I have no need of that hypothesis.” We require neither the threat of eternal punishment, nor the promise of eternal reward to motivate us to lead good and ethical lives. We want to, in the spirit of the season, “Be good for goodness’ sake.” You can assert that this is the love of God – I can’t disprove that, but have no logical reason to buy that argument either. The “miracle”, if I may use that word, of existence is enough for me. The blessing of a deity is superfluous.
As has been pointed out, the fact that a belief in God makes people happier means nothing. A firm belief that I am the heir to a billion dollar fortune when I turn 50 would make me happy too, it’s also a lie. It’s untrue. To live my life based on that falsehood would be a mistake. This is an area where as an atheist, I feel sorry for people of faith. I wonder if people of faith are not, at least to some degree, ‘missing the boat’ by placing their hope in a promised afterlife which may not exist. What a shame to have missed out to any degree on the wonder of this life while pining away for a hoped-for afterlife. The idea that this life is temporary, transient, and illusory, and what really matters is an eternity with god seems to me a sad self-deception. I think that you personally would be a notable exception to this generalization about people of faith, but you are the exception that proves the rule.
Happy Solstice!
Andrew
Andrew, I agree with you: there are LOTS of atheists who live “fulfilling, happy lives without any need for the God construct.” That is exactly the point of my headline. I don’t doubt for a minute that atheists can lead “good and ethical lives.” Of course you can. I know lots of fine atheists, and with very few exceptions I would trust them with my kids without thinking twice. And those exceptions have nothing to do with atheism.
What I am saying in this post is that “existence” may be good enough for you, but it sure as hell is not good enough for, as I put it, “abused children, teens who are ignored or despised by their parents, women who are routinely brutalized by their husbands, adults who hate themselves, and people, some very young, who have come to the end of their road and cannot imagine life anymore, and who kill themselves.”
I’m not trying to prove that I’m right, or that you’re wrong, I’m just asking the question: What does atheism have to offer these people? Their name is legion, and they need something. What do they need? And can atheism provide it?
Inheriting a billion dollars would not make me the kind of happy I’m talking about. There may be a language problem here. I’m not talking about “happiness and unhappiness” in the way a billion dollars could make me happy. These words are not big enough to describe the inner life of a suicidal human being, because many suicidal human beings have more money than they know what to do with. I’m not talking down to you — I’m just trying to tell you where I’m coming from.
I’m not asking you to challenge me about what Christianity can offer these poor wretched people. I’d be pleased to figure out what I think about that later on, but that’s getting off topic. I’m asking what atheism can offer them.
Also: You may think I’m the exception, but there are lots of exceptions.
Before I sign off, Happy Solstice to you too. Do you go to solstice parties? I went to one a few years ago and it was really fantastic. You humanists know how to have a fine time! (We Christians do too, actually; it’s one of our best-kept secrets.)
Paul, as always, you make interesting points and ask interesting questions:
Sadly, I have never been to a “Solstice Party” per se. My wife and I generally celebrate the solstice together. I make a point of watching the sunrise and sunset and reflecting on the significance of the event in my life. One more piece of one more trip around the sun. How many of these trips will I make? 80? 90? 100 if I’m really lucky? Far fewer if I’m not so lucky?
When people say “remember the reason for the season”, we nod and wink at each other – “Yes, let’s do remember – the days are getting longer again in the northern hemisphere!” Something to celebrate during these cold, short, and dark days of winter. I’m a (very) amateur astronomer, and I love to observe the motions of the sun, moon, and planets, so I get pretty excited about solstices, equinoxes, planetary conjunctions, etc. I’m a Starry Night Pro guy too! I can be found out in my yard at night with a camera attached to my telescope trying to get a good picture of Jupiter’s satellites. What’s going on in my mind at that point is my Pantheist worship service. I am communing with nature, contemplating my place in the universe, and the miracle of life and self-awareness. And it’s brevity. It makes it all the more special. “For these few days, the hills are bright with Cherry Blossom. Longer, and we should not prize them so.” – Japanese wisdom
Now to the other issues you raise: What does Atheism have to offer those who are suffering in this world? I’d say two things: 1. Like Christians, we have ourselves – by that, I mean our energies, our time, our talents, our shared resources. Whatever we can do to alleviate people’s suffering. (I include the suffering of other sentient animals as well.) 2. The certain knowledge that life/fate whatever you want to call it is not fair, is not required to be fair, and will never be fair. In the Atheist worldview, there is no afterlife wherein everything will be made ‘right’. Acceptance of this reality motivates and enables us to strive with all of our energies to make things as just and good in this world as they can be. In other words, I wouldn’t want to waste a moment or a thought propagating the idea that “Sorry your life is crap, but don’t worry, it’ll be all better after you die. God’s going to hook you up in heaven!” I believe that is a waste of energy and resources which could be better used in fighting against the injustice or problem, whatever it may be. I say confront the problem, and deal with it in the most effective way we can. Divorce that abusive husband, get that therapy, medication, whatever you need. Some people yes, have no options at all. All the more reason to try to make this a better world, rather than pass the buck by saying that this is a sinful, crappy world, but the kingdom of heaven will be good to go, so just be patient.
As to my inheritance analogy, don’t miss my point, I know that money can’t buy happiness. The point is that living one’s life based on a falsehood is generally not a good thing. As in my analogy, it would affect one’s choices in a negative way. Do placebos have their place? Sure. But I’m sure you look at Christianity as much more than just a placebo.
Thanks for the great discussion,
Andrew
Just wanted to add how enjoyable I think it is to have my worldview challenged. It forces me to consider what I believe even more thoroughly, which is always a good thing, IMHO. If I can do the same for Christians, or people of other persuasions, I think it’s all to the good. And here, I get the sense that we can agree to disagree about some things, and that’s just alright. Respect for and tolerance of others beliefs is something we can all be reminded of. Thank you, Paul.
As I drag the placebo analogy out a little more, in health care we feel sort of a failure when we can’t cure the disease, but can only “treat the symptoms”. But sometimes that is truly all we can do. It’s as good as it gets. Christianity as placebo, successful at treating the symptom of hopelessness, but not at ‘curing’ the root causes you mentioned? Just a thought. Maybe that is as good as this life gets for some. I’ll admit, it’s easier for me to be an Atheist as a fortunate, reasonably well adjusted 21st century American, than it would be for someone in desperate circumstances.
Here’s my dirty little secret: In 1990-91, I was in the first complete American Brigade in Iraq. We were a small, light Airborne unit, staring down what, to our knowledge at the time, was the “third largest Amy in the world” with all of the latest Soviet hardware. People were calling us “speed bumps” for Sadaam’s tanks. I thought there was a pretty good chance that I wouldn’t make it out of there. I clung to the religion of my youth. I said the prayers, carried the pocket-sized New Testament, and the religious preference on my dog tags was Lutheran. I did this out of fear. Fear of my own impending mortality. After the ground combat/slaughter was over, I was reminded why I didn’t believe. A loving, caring, omnipotent and omniscient God wouldn’t allow this to happen. I was 22 years old. My beliefs have matured and solidified since then. I’m pretty sure that in those circumstances, or on my deathbed, I won’t do the same again. I was truly “clinging to my religion and guns” at that point! I am embarrassed to admit this, but it is true. It is my life as it is, rather than as I wish it were. An ugly truth rather than a pretty story.
Andrew
Andrew, thanks so much for what you have written here. Honesty is so refreshing.
I don’t have much else to say except that I don’t know about suffering either — why it happens. But as a Christian I can’t ignore it, because it’s right there at the very central hinge point of the story of my faith. One of the things I love about Christianity is that, although it doesn’t solve the problem of pain, it at least stands up an looks it in the eye.
I won’t give you any of the nice theological “solutions” I’ve learned about suffering, because it will sound like only so much crap when held up to your experience in Iraq.
Paul
“I don’t have much else to say except that I don’t know about suffering either — why it happens. But as a Christian I can’t ignore it, because it’s right there at the very central hinge point of the story of my faith. One of the things I love about Christianity is that, although it doesn’t solve the problem of pain, it at least stands up an looks it in the eye.”
And that, my friend, is where our two world views are just the same!
Andrew
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